a very sad day

A great man has died. Yesterday, Kipuli, a great traditional, tribal leader of my people, died in Port Moresby. He was greatly respected by many people and many other leaders. He is the uncle of the Governor of our province and his words held sway across mountains steeped in mist and vallies teeming with rushing brown rivers flowing by scattered villages. I had the honour of meeting with this man on several ocassions and watching him diffuse tensions which had the taste of blood at their edges ... when he spoke, men listened ... when he demanded, men heeded ... when he laughed, men knew something was right. He was humble and he truly loved the land of my fathers and the people of our blood. Kipuli knew our people, directed their passions, understood their excesses and their weaknesses and fought for their strengths and their longevity. He will be sadly missed, especially because he was taken very quickly, and much too soon.

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My family have beeen in the cry-haus for the last 24 hours ... half of them are flying back to my province for the funeral on a specially chartered flight. And little miss ricebag is stuck in this town because of exams next week.

Its all too awful.

I know its selfish but I can't bear it that I have to come to work and gather all my exam materials and do exam cram and run around organising documents for admission in my profession in this country ... I can't bear to be away just on this day when all I care for in this town are together and mourning Kipuli's death and sending off our family members and the body at the airport today.